


Featherlung

by MakzwehlEdison



Series: The Hiraeth Chronicles [3]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Loss, Loss of Parent(s), Original Characters - Freeform, Orphans, Siblings, Sick Character, Tieflings, Waterdeep, featherlung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 18:03:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20532281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakzwehlEdison/pseuds/MakzwehlEdison
Summary: A moment from before the siblings became orphans. A dad struggling to protect a family on the brink of loss. A pre-teen feeling the weight of newborn responsibilities.





	Featherlung

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, welcome to the tale of the Hiraeth siblings! Or, alternatively, thanks for coming back! 
> 
> This is a little prequel fanfiction before my wife and I play two tiefling siblings in an upcoming campaign. She and I have really delved into the mind of these two orphans and written a history that was seriously too tempting to not put on paper. So here's part three!!
> 
> A note, The Hiraeth Chronicles are non-linear narratives set throughout the siblings' life leading up to "present day" where Petrichor "Insidious" Hiraeth is roughly 29 and his sister, Pyra "Temerity" Hiraeth is roughly 21. I may post a timeline of the stories in the future.
> 
> Again, thanks for your interest! Notes are highly appreciated!!

He could hear her coughing from down the dimly lit hall. 

“Dad? Is she… is she dy-“

“Petrichor, you need to pay attention to me, okay? Listen very carefully, son.” He watched as tears began to creep into the corners of his father’s deep brown eyes. “There’s a caravan leaving tonight. I- I know it’s short notice, but things don’t look like they’re going to be getting any better. This is...a lot to put on you, I’m aware.”

“Dad, I just don’t under-“

“Listen! Understanding comes with time. In the moment you ACT, don’t think. Leave that for the scholars. Hiraeth’s DO while others lay around trying to understand. Now. The caravan will take you down the High Road, past the Mere of Dead Men. Then you and a few others will split from the caravan. They’ll continue to Leilon while you head to Phandelver. The family has some old friends there. Take this-“

Brynmor shoved a scroll of parchment into Petrichor’s hands. It had a wax seal of their distillery’s logo-A female gender glyph with horns. (Even at twelve, he thought the imagery used in the She-Devil Distillery was a little distasteful, but he never complained.)

“-to Nilsa Drendar at the merchant shop; the… the…” The tears were starting to flow now. “Gods, I don’t remember the name. The Merchant Maiden? Shit- anyway, she’ll be expecting you, so just ask around. Nilsa. Drendar. Remember that. Okay?”

Petrichor looked at his feet. He’d never seen his father cry before. It felt... wrong, somehow. This isn't the way the world works. The ground beneath his feet started to blur. Before he knew what was happening, the burning in his eyes was overwhelming. He started to sob uncontrollably.

His father sighed, took a deep breath, and knelt- placing a soft hand on his shaking shoulders. He felt the hand tighten until it became an icy grip- pain shot into Petrichor’s shoulder. He gasped in surprise. His father’s other hand shot to his chin, wrenching his face upward to look at his own. Now Brynmor’s eyes were like coals smoldering in a fire. He choked back tears, unable to catch his breath for a moment. He was going into shock at the flip of so many emotions he’d never seen emanating from his father.

“Listen. To me. Son.” His words were coming out like daggers, thrown at Petrichor’s face. His jaw was set; his nose flared at each word. “You have to take care of Pyra… For now. You have to be strong for your sister. When you get back, everything will be okay again. I’ll be here. We’ll make this whole thing work, okay?”

“But what about mom?”

“Your mother is-”

The door opened. Pyra toddled into the room, holding her stuffed owlbear and wiping the sleep from her eyes. Brynmoor immediately straightened up and plastered a knowing smile on his tear-streaked face. “What is it, Little Rouge?”

“Can’t sleep. Mam’s coughing too much.”

“It’s okay sweetie. It’ll be easier on the caravan ride. You ready to see all the dream horses? They’re gonna rock you to sleep.”

Petrichor looked back at his feet, then hurriedly back to his father. He clenched his fists and tightened his jaw. I have to be strong for my sister, he thought. No more crying.

There was a loud THUNK-THUNK-THUNK on the villa’s front door. “Brynmoor, the carriage is here.”

For a second, Petrichor thought he saw fear sweep over his father’s face. Then gone, like a flash. Stoic as he was before, Brynmoor Hiraeth straightened his collar and put his hand back on his son’s shoulder- Petrichor flinched, remembering the pain from before.

“Son, go grab your sister’s bag and help her onto the cart. It’s time.”

Petrichor hurried Pyra into her room, holding her hand because she was too asleep to walk straight. He grabbed her small luggage bag and hurried back out the room. He almost shut the door on his sister’s tail, but hurried her along the hallway. “Pyra, you’ve got to pay attention.” She gurgled something back at him, but he didn’t hear. 

A man that Petrichor had never seen before was haunting the foyer. Portly, he had a mustache like a chimney sweep’s broom. His corduroy vest was adorned with barely fastened ivory buttons. It did a poor job at covering a shirt that eerily matched the same tobacco-stained cotton of the man’s skin tone.

“Petrichor, this is Jansen. He’s going to be watching over you while you’re with the main caravan.”

“Pleasure, young master. Now, let’s be off!”

“Can I say goodbye to mom?” whispered Pyra, whose eyes were now saucers against her crimson face. She had began to understand what was happening and was nervously fiddling with the nubbed horns on her forehead. 

Brynmor leaned down and kissed his daughter on the forehead. “Best not bother her in her state, my love. But she does love you. As do I. So much. This will all be over soon.” He looked at Petrichor with steely eyes. “You two… Be careful. I’ll see you when you get back.”

As the Hiraeth children walked down the street to the caravan, Petrichor turned around to take one last look at his father. Brynmoor’s stare was like a steel knife to the young boy. He turned and walked back through the door of their Waterdhavian villa, stifling a cough as he closed the heavy oaken door.

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned next week for our first foray into the mind of an older Temerity Hiraeth (the sister formerly known as "Pyra"), as told by the lovely Litlady67!!!


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